


Promise Me Tomorrow, Today

by pamdizzle



Series: Dreams of Lace and Satin [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bittersweet, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Intimacy, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 22:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamdizzle/pseuds/pamdizzle
Summary: This thing between Oswald and Jim is incredibly new, and Oswald is, unfortunately, forced to test its strength far too soon.Jim and Oswald have their first fight. This follows almost immediately after Five Times Oswald Procures Lingerie, and One Time Jim Procures it For Him.





	Promise Me Tomorrow, Today

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! There's actually not a lot of lingerie featuring in this one, though more will be coming in the future. This was one of the plot bunnies that immediately occurred to me as I was writing the first fic. I had to get it down, so here it is! Angst ahead, and while I can't resolve all of Oswald's self-esteem issues in this particular entry, that's sort of the purpose of having made it into a series. We'll get there, but there's gonna be ups and downs, you know? 
> 
> Paintrain ahead, but I try to kiss it better with make up sex. (spoiler)
> 
> Song that reminds of this pairing: Certain Things by James Arthur. Go listen and tell me that’s not perfect...

Oswald is wearing a path through the Moroccan rug of his office. He is preparing to meet with Butch and Tabitha this evening, but this fresh anxiety has little to do with their plans for Strange. It has everything to do with Jim, or Detective Gordon, as Oswald must think of him in this context.

There is a high likelihood that they will come face to face in a professional confrontation this evening—the first since they became…whatever it is they now are to one another. Friends in the dark, as Jim had said, and in more ways than one. Oswald has told no one about his new…

Lover?

God, is Jim actually his lover now?

Oswald giggles, his face heating as he thinks over their handful of encounters these past couple of weeks. He sighs at the memory of waking up beside the detective, of his messy blonde hair and his relaxed, sleeping face. Oswald had dedicated several minutes that first morning just to looking at Jim, pondering the events that had somehow, miraculously brought them together.

Hours, accumulated over years of throwaway moments, of Oswald’s life had been dedicated to fantasies of James Gordon. None of them compared to reality, however, and Oswald is aware of how precariously this new aspect of their relationship is balanced upon the edge of a knife.

Oswald wants badly to find some way out of testing its metal this evening, for a test is exactly what it will be. Jim says he holds no illusions about who he is crawling into bed with, who he has been sharing the odd breakfast with—creeping up behind Oswald while he makes coffee to kiss along Oswald’s neck, snake his hands beneath Oswald’s silk robe to peak at the day’s selection of panties, tell Oswald how pretty he is—but they have yet to butt heads in the way crime lords and the law tend to do. The way he and Jim have often done in the past.

Can Jim withstand the truth, really?

Oswald has doubts. Certainly, Jim has changed over the years. He can now bend in places when the situation calls for it, but beneath it all he is still a good man fighting the filth of Gotham. Filth like the Penguin.

It’s a no-win situation, is what it is.

Oswald needs a plan. He needs leverage. His brow furrowing, Oswald considers the biggest tool in his chest where Jim is concerned. He doubts it will work, not if Jim is dead set on disrupting whatever fate Butch has planned for Doctor Strange. Somehow, he doubts this plan of theirs is going to meet with the desired result of ‘fixing’ Butch. As if the man is broken.

As if his slight resemblance to the cast of _Night of the Living Dead_ is some horrible disability for which the good doctor can simply devise a cure. Oswald knows a thing or two about disabilities. His mangled right leg and ankle pain him daily, but do you see him planning to lob it off? He doesn’t like looking at it, but he has grown to respect it even if he is still working to accept it.

Oswald is of the opinion that Butch is only so determined because Tabitha is so determined. He’d like to shake the man and tell him that if Tabitha can’t get over his new...physicality…then the true disability lies with her! Jim doesn’t sneer at Oswald’s leg, in fact, he goes out of his way to pay it extra attention when they’re—

Now is not the time. Oswald is well on his way to rebuilding his empire. Which means that whatever he is building with Jim, currently, is bound to be tested by the nature of their professional relationship eventually. Oswald squares his shoulders. Better sooner than later.

Still, having a plan B couldn’t hurt. Oswald spares his rug from further useless pacing, and hobbles into his room. He really needs to pick up a different nervous habit. One that doesn’t result in the early exhaustion of his abused limb. Ed liked to tap on things or click his pen over and over while he devised riddles, Oswald remembers, wrinkling his nose at the unexpected recollection.

Too annoying.

Stress ball?

Once he makes it to his room, Oswald unlocks his armoire and opens the cabinet to reveal a steadily growing assortment of lingerie and nighties. He’s taken to hanging them here rather than reassigning them back to the secret room on the other side of the manor. Oswald has someone to share them with now, and he has found that it lessens his anxiety over being caught. Jim’s opinion is the most valuable, and Jim likes to see him dressed up. It’s what Oswald is counting on to spare him from a bit of the man’s wrath later on.

Is this what it’s like to have a lover? Constantly preparing for a fight? How depressing, though Oswald can’t imagine letting go now. The idea that Jim could easily walk away is one that chills Oswald to his marrow. Now that he’s experienced what it’s like to be touched by Jim, seen his face when it’s frozen in awe from pleasure Oswald has given him…

No. There has to be a way, and Oswald is not above playing dirty. He sets his eyes upon his collection with purpose. With any luck, Jim’s bodily response to Oswald will ensure his mind’s eventual cooperation. Otherwise, they are well and truly beyond all hope.

***

Butch and Tabitha’s half-assed plan goes to hell almost immediately. They may have cornered Dr. Strange fairly easily, but the man has allies, and while Oswald would normally use the opportunity as a preliminary scouting exercise—he’s always in the market for new muscle, after all—there’s no time to give any of them so much as a brief assessment.

The doors to the warehouse are thrown open just as Butch is about to succeed in threatening his way to an antidote, and they all find themselves in a standoff between Butch’s small army from the narrows, Strange’s collection of wonder-zombies and, of course, the GCPD. The good detective, Jim Gordon, and his partner, leading the raid.

Their eyes lock for the barest of moments—Jim locking onto Oswald like a homing beacon, though he seems to be the only one who isn’t warily focused on the tableau of lab equipment in the center of the room—before one of Strange’s men decides to loose an arrow, of all things, into the shoulder of one of the GCPD’s less than finest. It’s all downhill from there, and all sides of the multifrontal confrontation are squaring off in a violent game of capture and escape. Strange uses his men as human shields, beating a hasty retreat behind the cover they provide.

Butch and Tabitha are too focused on saving each other to spare Oswald or the rest of their merry band of misfits much consideration. Oswald rolls his eyes, ducking behind a crate as he devises his own plan of retreat. The GCPD has two of five optional exits closed, the third is too far and chained from the outside. Oswald had noticed it on their way in, and he watches as several of their cohorts run toward it, thereby securing their fate in a holding cell overnight.

Oswald considers the stairs, and the likelihood he can scale them unnoticed and then use the fire escape to descend outside. It should lead down behind the building, which is mostly inaccessible due to the pile of illegally dumped, stripped vehicles. The GCPD likely won’t have bothered trying to cover it. Oswald has profited from part chopping in the past, and he finds it might just benefit him again as he stealthily creeps through the shadows of the raging warehouse floor to the unguarded stairway.

He can feel eyes on him as he ascends, but he refuses to look back. If he pauses, others may notice, and it will force Jim to acknowledge his presence to the rest of his team. This way, however, Jim can make the choice.

No one follows, but Oswald knows the confrontation is far from over. Jim will seek him out and the consequences of this little endeavor will be meted out between them. 

Plan B it is, then.

***

Jim doesn’t seek him out immediately, and Oswald curses the man’s stubborn nature. It’s been four days— _four days—_ without so much as a peep from the detective, for surely that is who now sits in his office. _His_ Jim, is hiding somewhere behind that mask of righteous authority, but Oswald can’t even glimpse him beyond the man’s hard stare. Apparently, even this meeting is borne of obligation to Jim’s position as detective. He’s here on official business to garner evidence in a case he is building against Oswald, based on his presence at the warehouse that night.

Oswald feigns indifference. He can be just as obstinate. He forces a tiny smile beneath his own narrowed eyes as he appraises the detective where he sits, posture straight, jaw tight. Oswald leans forward over the desk, propping his hand up by the elbow so he can flippantly rest his chin on his open palm. 

He greets the man with obvious false cheer, “Detective, so good to see you. It’s been an absurd amount of time since our last meeting, don’t you think?”

 Jim shifts in his seat, just slightly, clearly taking the remark as intended—a well-aimed barb at this cowardly charade. It’s only a moment, however, and Jim squares his shoulders. “You broke about a dozen laws the other night, _Penguin_. I could arrest you for those alone.”

Oswald narrows his eyes at Jim’s provocation. What happened to ‘Oz’? Incensed, he grits his teeth and sneers, “Did I, _Detective_? Where’s your evidence? Your witnesses?”

“I don’t need witnesses,” Jim snarls back, “I _saw_ you.”

Oswald rolls his eyes. “Honestly, this is growing tiresome, James.”

Jim clenches his jaw, but instead of exchanging whatever dirty words he clearly wants to throw at Oswald, he stands from his chair and starts angrily for the door.

Oswald knew this would end badly, but he ignores the hurt in favor of his own anger. So, he rises as well, laughing cynically. “How typical. Of course, you run at the first glimpse of reality. For all your claims that you know who I am, and what I’m capable of, you sure are quick to fall back into old habits. I’m disappointed in you, Jim. I’ve always known you’re a stubborn bastard, but I never would have labeled you a coward. Your pointless guilt is a prison of your own making.” His voice nearly catches on his last parting shot, but he manages to bite it out with all the scathing he can summon. “Have fun rotting in it alone.”

It has the desired effect. Well, partly. Jim doesn’t leave, which is a win. Instead, Oswald has succeeded in baiting the full front of Jim’s impressive anger which he turns on him with aplomb. “I’m not blind to who you are when we’re together, Oswald, but I can’t ignore crimes you commit right in front of my face! You knew I’d be there, don’t act like you didn’t anticipate it, and you showed your face there anyway.” He pauses, stepping closer, his voice shaking with quiet fury, “What was it? _A test_?”

Oswald is livid, frustrated by the inevitability of it all. “Of course, it was a test! But not of my own design.” He snorts with derision. “Do you really think I’d be willing to risk,” he draws in a shaky breath, uncomfortable with what he’s about to admit, “ _you_ …over Strange, of all people? Butch wouldn’t take the customary form of payment for his services. I owed him for Valeska, and he called in the favor.”

The fight leaves him then, and all he feels is tired as he drops back into his chair and says, “It was bound to happen eventually. I’m sorry you were put in this position so soon. I would have liked…” He tightens his jaw as he forcefully swallows his emotions. “It was nice while it lasted. Don’t let it trouble you, Jim.”

So much for Plan B. If only Jim had come the next day as Oswald had expected, he could have attempted some sort of seduction. He probably would have only embarrassed himself, wearing all that lace and leather. Instead, he’d given up hope after day three, choosing to pamper himself instead with his most comfortable satin panties, foregoing anything more elaborate. Not that his lingerie could have ever saved him from this eventuality.

He’s so lost in his own spiraling thoughts, that he doesn’t notice Jim kneeling before him until he’s laying warm hands over Oswald’s knees.

“Hey,” Jim says quietly, face solemn. “I’m not—” The man is clearly at a loss for words, torn between loyalties, unsure of how to proceed.

Oswald sighs. “Not what, Jim?” he presses, “Not leaving me? Not afraid of what will happen when you find something you can’t ignore and have to send me back to Arkham? We both know it will happen. I’m good, but I’m not infallible.” He avoids Jim’s eyes as he adds dejectedly, “I trust the wrong people.”

“We had a bad day,” Jim tries to reason for them both.

“We had a bad _five days_ , Jim,” Oswald corrects. He can’t stop the lump from forming in his throat as he remembers how he spent those days doing little else but worrying. Worrying over whether or not Jim would ever come to him, to yell at the very least. Tonight’s arguing, the shouting—par for the course, as far as Oswald is concerned. But the silence? That was cruelty. “A fine punishment, Detective.”

Jim looks as though Oswald has buried a knife in his gut; he could from this range, and Jim would never see it coming. Not that he would. Ever. Not even as upset as he is. This is the power James has over him. It isn’t fair.

What can Oswald possibly wield against Jim, aside from telling him to leave? As if it wouldn’t come as a relief rather than a rebuke. Jim wouldn’t have to care if Oswald got himself locked up, then. He wouldn’t have to feel guilty about a secret affair with a perverted criminal. Oswald is just a distraction for Jim, a detractor to his character and good name. He is better off without him, and they both know it.

“I wasn’t trying to punish you, Oswald,” Jim denies, recapturing Oswald’s attention. “I was…pissed at myself. I…I’m a mess, Oz.” He drops from his crouch onto his knees fully and lays his forehead down on Oswald’s good knee.

“You’re right. I am afraid,” he admits. “I don’t want you to go back there. I don’t want to be the one to put you there. I just…want you. And it scares the shit out of me, how much wanting you makes it impossible for me to be objective to your crimes.”

Oswald can’t help it. He runs his fingers through Jim’s hair, already forgiving him as much as he knows he shouldn’t. “Someday, maybe, you’ll have to do it, Jim. But don’t leave me like that again, not if we’re going to keep…” He can feel his eyes welling up, but he pushes forward anyway. It has to be said. Needs to be laid bare between them so that Jim can be made to understand. “You say you can’t be objective when it comes to me, but we both know you’ll do what you must. I…Jim, I have nothing to save me from you.

“And maybe you don’t want to hear it. Maybe it’ll finally be the nail in the coffin between us—and I have tried for years to deny it—but I am _in love with you,_ James, and you can’t do that to me. It’s not fair.”

When he finally braves a glance at Jim for his reaction, he is staring at Oswald like he’s never seen him before. Distantly, he remembers Ed’s claims that Oswald was incapable of love, too selfish to so much as even understand it. He thinks, perhaps, Jim probably thought the same. The notion only serves to force the tears to finally fall.

Jim snaps out of whatever trance he’d been in and takes up Oswald’s hands. “I don’t know what to say to fix this, but I want to fix it. Oswald, it’s worth fixing. I should have called. Or texted. Or just come to you. I didn’t because…seeing you is all I’ve wanted since it happened.

“And it should feel wrong to want you, but it doesn’t, and so I punished myself for being weak to it. I don’t know how else to explain it. Barbara used to say that guilt was my super power. Probably shouldn’t be bringing up my exes, but…it’s not untrue.”

Oswald sighs, his hand betraying him to thread itself through Jim’s wild hair in an effort to comfort the detective. It works as usual, as Jim winds his arms around Oswald’s waist where he is still knelt on the floor, burying his face in his stomach. Jim hadn’t said it back, but Oswald doesn’t expect him to. He may be capable of love, but that doesn’t make him loveable.

Jim cares, though. That much is clear, and Oswald thinks that’s enough. More than he deserves, probably, because he could give up trying to run Gotham from its underbelly, but he won’t. Oswald is too selfish, at least according to the likes of Ed and Barbara, to cast off his own ambitions for the sake of his love of anyone. Not even his mother could dissuade him, had she known. This is the only way Oswald knows to bring order to the city, however. To control the depth of its darkness. He fights fire with fire. It often works better than Jim’s way, and they’ll always disagree on that point, he knows.

Oswald decides to let it go for now. They didn’t exactly jump this first hurdle, but they’re still limping forward. Jim isn’t leaving, and Oswald isn’t going to make him. “It’s late, Jim. Do you have to return to the station, or can you take me to bed?”

“Shift’s over. No one else saw you the other night. I’m not here officially,” Jim mumbles against Oswald’s middle. “I missed you.”

***

Jim takes Oswald apart slowly. There’s a penitent quality to his every touch, an apology in every slide of his tongue into Oswald’s eager mouth. He drags kisses along Oswald’s neck, hands massaging as they follow the path he tracks with his lips. His own hands clutch to whatever they can reach of Jim—his shoulders, his neck, his hair—and Oswald makes a mess of him in turn, feeding Jim’s slow-burning frenzy.

Oswald is so lost in the euphoria of Jim’s focused campaign, that it takes him utterly by surprise when he feels wet heat close over the most intimate part of himself. He wants to squirm away— _it’s unsanitary_ —and push back at the same time. It’s simply overwhelming, in the most alluring of ways.

Jim has been infinitely considerate of Oswald’s inexperience, slowly introducing him to all the different ways two people can share pleasure. Oswald has enjoyed every single one, but this…this makes him _want._

“Jim, please,” he begs. “Please…”

Jim spears him with his tongue, then, and for a while Oswald forgets what words even are. Jim is fucking him with his mouth, and he is losing his mind with how deeply it makes him burn. It isn’t until Jim finally relents, crawling back up Oswald’s body, that his brain comes back online.

He is painfully hard, and he can feel Jim’s answering arousal where it’s nestled beneath Oswald’s sack. Jim swoops in for a kiss, bringing the taste of Oswald’s own skin with him. He ought to be disgusted—order Jim to brush his teeth—but it only makes the fire in his blood burn more intensely.

“James,” he manages, when they part for air, “Please. I want you.”

Jim groans against his mouth. “Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll give you whatever you want, baby, I swear.”

Oswald is trembling, so overwhelmed he can hardly breathe but he pulls Jim’s forehead against his own. “I want to feel you inside me,” he utters quietly in the air so intimately shared between them. He clarifies, “I want to feel you come inside me.”

Jim grasps for the nightstand, yanking it open. Oswald has filled his bedside table with all the necessary supplies ever since that first time together. He hears Jim uncap the lube, the wet sound of it coating his fingers, but he can do little more than clutch Jim’s shoulders as he opens Oswald up from the inside. It feels so much more intense, having someone else touch him like this, driving him to the brink more quickly than he’s ever managed on his own.

Not to mention all the filthy, wonderful things coming out of Jim’s mouth.

“You’re so tight,” Jim pants against his ear. He’s covering Oswald from head to toe, around him and inside of him, and Oswald is growing very impatient but Jim continues, “I can’t wait to feel you.”

“Yes, yes,” Oswald hisses desperately, “let’s dispense with all the waiting. I want to come on your cock.”

“Fuck.” Jim half-chuckles, half groans, as he finally retrieves his fingers, lips worrying at Oswald’s earlobe. “I love it when you get impatient. You’re so fuckin’ bossy. Wan’ you to tell me what to do.”

 Oswald is absolutely prepared to tell Jim to get on with it and fuck him already, except immediately after the words leave Jim’s mouth, there’s a tenseness to his movements and touch as he lines himself up. His eyes are carefully narrowed in on the task, avoiding Oswald’s own. He realizes, in the space of a moment, that Jim has just divulged something about himself that he is clearly uncomfortable with.

Oswald is having none of it. In this aspect of their relationship, Jim has given every ounce of his acceptance, and Oswald will prove to Jim that he is capable of the same. He grips a handful of Jim’s hair, not to pull it but to get his attention, causing him to cease all other activities and meet his gaze.

“James,” he utters the name like a prayer, then haughtily orders, “Kiss me first.”

He watches, utterly aghast, as Jim’s pupils dilate the slightest fraction. Jim licks his lips, nervous, but does as commanded, taking up Oswald’s mouth in a kiss that is all tongue and desperate need. When Oswald has had his fill, he gently nips Jim’s bottom lip, before releasing him entirely.

“Now,” he says, pushing Jim’s bangs back from his face, “fuck me, Jim.” He brings his other hand up to swipe against Jim’s lips, “Fuck me so good that I can never forget it.”

Jim’s nostrils flare, his hands gripping Oswald’s hips with bruising force before he lets go to yank the pillow right out from under Oswald’s head and shove it under his hips. He hitches Oswald’s good leg over his shoulder and, inch by inch, he ruins Oswald for anyone else. “I’m gonna fuck you so good,” Jim purrs into his hear, grinding his cock deeply into Oswald once he’s fully seated, “until it’s all you can think about every time you sit down tomorrow. You’re gonna remember how well I gave it to you, and you’re gonna beg me to do it again, and again, and again.”

“Yeah,” Oswald pants, ineloquent in a way he’s unfamiliar with. “I want it. I want you. Wan’ you all the time.”

“I’m gonna come see you tomorrow,” Jim promises. “I’m gonna bend you over that goddamned desk and fill you up until you’re coming all over yourself.”

“Promise,” Oswald demands, hips bucking desperately, chasing Jim’s torturous pace, mind lost to the building pressure in his abdomen. “Promise you’ll come back.”

“Can’t stay away,” Jim confesses, thrusts growing more erratic.

“ _Promise._ ”

Jim kisses him, wraps a hand around his cock, and Oswald is wholly undone. He comes with Jim moving inside him, exactly how he wanted, and he is shaking with the intensity of it as he wails through his release.

“That’s it baby, let me hear you.” Jim’s pace quickens as he chases his own orgasm, Oswald lose and panting beneath him.

Oswald has just enough energy to catch Jim’s eye and tell him, “Now, Jim. Do it now.”

Jim loses it with a shout, the sound punched out of his diaphragm. After he rides it out, he slowly lowers Oswald’s leg, folding over him to rest his head on his hip.

Eventually he looks up, eyes so blue Oswald could drown in them.

Jim says, “I promise.”

Oswald smiles, overly fond. It isn’t ‘I love you,’ but somehow, it is _everything_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t forget to drop a kudo or leave a comment if you had a good time before you head out ;) Also, I am open to prompts for this series on tumblr if you think of something you want to see my Jim and Oswald explore within the series. :)


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